Most Potent of Them All
by SirenMist
Summary: They are both dead. She longs for love, yet the posion is already inside her, killing her with each breath she takes. He knew love once, and it killed him, somewhere in a dank lab, strapped to a table. He will not partake of the toxin again, for he is already all but buried, and she will never know the ecstacy of it racing in her veins. Onesided Yuffentine, Oneshot.


**I HAD to write a oneshot, it was killing me. For those looking for a happy Yuffentine, this isn't it. I need to write something a bit darker, it was calling to me. Sorry!**

**This was written as kind of the, "Vincent never got over Lucrecia, he still loves her, and Yuffie falls terribly in love with him but he breaks her heart in the end like everyone knew he would," kind of prompt.**

**Disclaimer: I do not profit, all things here belong to their rightful owners.**

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_~::The Most Potent of Them All::~_

She sits there, her fingers dancing around the rim of a little chilled glass of cider. Pale lips pull up in a smile so forced that it almost appears painful. The look in her shadowy eyes nearly screams of the anguish within her heart.

And Vincent takes another sip of his red wine, watching as the ninja tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. She glances up at him, and he is alarmed to find tears gathering in her silver depths. Though, in retrospect, he should not at all be shocked.

"You know, things are boring 'round Wutai!" She's speaking animatedly again, as though the simple, familiar habit will put his mind at ease. Something bothers her, of that he is sure, but he will not ask because it is merely safer to avoid unnecessary hurt, to keep from opening up a discussion that he will not solve with kind words and reassurances.

Her story continues, and he blocks out the sound as he is wont to do. It is snowing in thick, heavy blankets outside the window of the café, and in between the dusting of white, he can see the darkness peeking through. It sends a shiver down his spine, for it seems as though Gaia herself is reminding the dark gunslinger that he cannot taint the white rose, the fragile snowflake that is Yuffie Kisaragi with his eternal night, it is taboo.

So he nods at her occasionally, and when she has finally gushed about every topic her hyper-active brain can conjure, she closes her mouth slowly, her excited face slowly melting into an expressionless mien. She becomes more like him every day, he realizes, and immediately he feels the familiar pain of guilt, one that holds enough control to cause him to hesitate, sloshing a drop of red wine onto the table. Red like blood.

"Vincent," she speaks, her voice monotonous and not at all like herself. He knows he will not like what she has to say, he never does when she uses his full name. "Why are you distancing yourself again?"

He knows she's hurting inside, like an internal wound that drains her of her joy, her exuberance, her vitality with each passing second. He can detect it in the way she shifts her weight, her eyes darting around to soak in every detail of the little café. She holds her breath, cheeks filled with air, swollen. She is waiting on him for something he cannot give her.

Why, she asks? How can he not?

The truth is simply that he—

"Vincent, I love you."

_Yuffie…_

Her blunt words register in his mind, but he ignores the pleading look on her face. He knows where her devotion lies, he always has and ever will. She is as madly in love with him as he was for Lucrecia. For him, she will do anything, be anyone, say whatever to make him happy. She has tried to release him from his guilt, but the truth is that she just isn't who he wants.

She has given him everything she has to offer, and he does mean everything.

Unfortunately for her, that is simply not good enough for a man, no _monster,_ like Vincent Valentine.

He feels that he should say something back, he knows she deserves an answer. But in reality, he really does not care what she deserves. The world is unjust, unfair, and cruel, and the sooner she wakes up and realizes that, the better.

Her words mean nothing to him. She is only a foolish young girl, too naïve to know how love can take such control over a person that it is the most potent poison of all. It slips into the bloodstream without its victim realizing it until it is too late, having already seized the heart and closed off the veins. And then the person is left no choice but to be a slave to the venom, acting on whim and speaking nonsense. Just as he was with Lucrecia.

And when the love is denied, the anti-venom held just far enough away for the victim to cringe and grasp at it, clutching at their heart-broken chest, it is then that the poison truly takes control, killing the fool and leaving nothing but a mangled corpse in its wake.

Yuffie deserves to experience the tortures of love, the anguish and the devastation. Not that Vincent could offer her anything else. He does not love the silly child, but simply used her for his own purposes while she was convenient (he feels that that only makes him more of a demon, but he is too far gone to care much anymore). She should know how he felt, how his world crumbled when he found out that Lucrecia was seeing Hojo behind his back, running off to marry him and getting pregnant with his disgusting child. She should feel the pain of unrequited love, of being used and thrown away, and he will let her do so.

"Won't you say something?" she begs, a tear trickling down her cheek as she gazes at him. Her happiness hangs in the balance, her lips trembling as she offers him one last chance to kiss her and claim that he loves her with all his stone heart. It will not occur, for Vincent Valentine does not lie.

Vacantly, he replies, "That is unfortunate, Yuffie. I have no love for you. You know as well as I do, and you knew from the start that I will never love anyone other than Lucrecia, and you are not her. Good night."

He stands fluidly, watching as the ninja gapes at him in hurt disbelief. The Yuffie he once knew would have stood up and punched him hard and then argued the reasons that they should not give up on each other, but he has destroyed whatever existed of her over the past five years, and there is nothing but a hollow shell sitting at a café table, eyes lifeless and full of tears, face twisted as the slow toxin of love sets in. She is dead to the world before he ever makes it out of the café.

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**Um... Please review?**

**I hate myself, too, right now. I always curse at readers who write things like this because it's really depressing to read, especially when you're a die-hard Yuffentiner and that's your OTP. But I did need to write it because I needed some practice with writing Vincent's slight pov. I needed to reconnect with his inner turmoil and past in order to continue with my current stories, 'cause I feel I've drifted from the real Vince. Anyways, this helped me!**


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